


Mental Processes

by Scarlet_Gryphon



Series: Of Two Minds (Tok'ra!Rodney AU) [3]
Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Mostly dialogue-only, Tok'ra (Stargate), Tokr'a!Rodney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Gryphon/pseuds/Scarlet_Gryphon
Summary: Rodney wakes up to a bright, sun-shiney day, and then immediately wishes he hadn't. Set in my "Of Two Minds" Rodney-as-a-Tok'ra 'Verse and written for the SGA_Flashfic Drunk/Alcohol Challenge over on LJ on 2009. Set any time after "Runner".





	Mental Processes

_Wake up._

Blink. Groan. Ow. That seems to cover it, really.

“Should my brain hurt this much?”

_Yes, yes it should. It's all your fault, really._

Someone snickers nearby.

“I thought you couldn't get drunk, Rodney.”

Frown. What?

_Don't look at me. I'm not the one who drank all that wine last night._

“I usually don't, but apparently Syresh thinks that I need to learn a lesson today. Oh, God, can someone _please_ turn down the sun?”

_Unfortunately, that option is unavailable. Sor-ry._

Goddamn chirpy, sing-song Tok'ra. Another snigger. Damn, what the hell did he drink last night? And how much of it?

“I did not think that the wine the Rianashi gave us was that strong.”

Logic. Something he usually associates with himself. Somehow, though, logic has been overruled during the last twelve hours. To excess, it seemed. Damn.

“Yeah, but Mister 'I-can-drink-more-than-you-can-and-not-get-sick' over here managed to get into a drinking contest with Welan. You know, that big, beefy guy who looks like he could probably drink Ronon under the table?”

A memory swims up, prodded along by the waves of smugness Syresh is giving off. It shouldn't be possible for a faceless being to smirk, logically, but seeing as how logic was off on holiday, she does so, and with great satisfaction. The image of a hulking man downing a giant mug of mulled wine focuses itself at the forefront of his brain. Oh, hell.

“Didn't expect you could last that long, McKay.”

Yet another snigger from Syresh, making him toss an annoyed mental scowl at her. She replies with the mental equivalent of a raspberry and smirks again.

“Oh, thank you _very_ much, Conan. How long do we have to stay here for?”

“The mayor said we are welcome to leave at any time. He also said that should you like to return, we have to send ahead with a note. Three weeks in advance.”

“Oh, God.”

Pause.

_Well, that has to be –_

“Shut up.”

“What?”

_I'm just saying…_

“Not you. Syresh. She's laughing at me.”

“Serves you right.”

Sigh.

“Let's just go home.”

Pause again while something that has been bothering his subconscious starts banging on the door of his conscious mind.

“Where the _hell_ are my _pants_?”

 


End file.
